Wild Love
by LiteraryWitch
Summary: Captured by the Cheyenne, Emily O'Hara must learn their ways. Enter a strong, gentle warrior. Will there be love or only loss?
1. Adventure

_Cheyenne_ _Territory, 1836_

Emily O'Hara was reading one of her books when it happened. She, her parents Joe and Mary, and her sister Margaret had joined Stephen Hoxie's wagon train two years ago.

Life on the prairie was hard, with people dying left, right and center. First had been Leah. Poor girl had drowned. After that was her sister Rachel. Then the free Jones family, with only its patriarch Absalom left alive.

And now the cholera had spread like wildfire. The O'Haras were safe, as they'd been closer to the front of the train and had no contact with poor Sally Jones. They were allowed to move forward. But so many others were left behind, most likely to die as well.

The sound of Cheyenne warriors and their war cries had reached Emily's ears before anybody else's. "Indians!" she yelled in her thick Belfast brogue. The scouts rode along the train, warning everyone. An arrow whizzed through the air and buried itself in Joe's skull.

Emily was too terrified to move. Her mother and sister had screamed and her mother had loaded Joe's rifle as fast as she could. But there was a difference of opinion between Mary and one warrior, the latter thinking she looked better riddled with bullets.

At last, after what seemed an eternity, the carnage finally subsided. Naomi Wheeler and Emily were the only two survivors. A brave with red paint on his face about Emily's age tied her up and put her on a horse, but not before she'd sunken her teeth into his hand, enough so to draw blood. "Piss off, savage!" She spat in his face for good measure.

He recoiled and said something to the man next to him, who had Naomi Wheeler tied up also. He shoved her onto the dun pony and she refused to look at him. Face Paint mounted his own horse and the band rode away.

It was a day's ride to the Cheyenne camp. When they got there, all the Cheyenne stared at the two white women. Some spat and gave them dirty looks. As Naomi and Emily were hastily yanked off their horses, the chief, named Prairie Fire, surveyed them.

A woman named Burned by the Sun spoke at Prairie Fire's behest. "Are you sick with fever?" Burned asked them.

"No," said Naomi.

"How are you called?"

"Naomi Wheeler...Guthrie. Mrs. Skate Guthrie. He was my husband." She sent an accusing, hateful look at Prairie Fire. "Your warriors killed him."

Burned by the Sun looked at Emily. "How are _you_ called?"

Emily spat in her face. "Emily O'Hara. What do you care? You savages murdered my family."

Burned by the Sun looked at Prairie Fire and back at the two women. "He too has lost a loved one."

Prairie Fire said something neither girl could understand to Burned. "You will now be called Five Horses," said the old woman. "And you will be called Spitting Flame," she said to Emily. "Thank you kindly," said Naomi/Five Horses coldly, looking Prairie Fire dead in the eye. Emily was silent as the grave.

Burned by the Sun led Naomi/Five Horses into a tipi. Emily was left outside. She felt someone grab her arm roughly. It was Face Paint. "Do you speak English?"

He said nothing, only leading her into his tipi. He gave her a buckskin dress with fringes at the bottom. There were two buffalo robes on the floor by the fire.

She slept on that buffalo hide until Face Paint returned with a bowl of dried buffalo meat. "You...eat...now," he said slowly. He was clearly trying to speak as clearly as possible. His tone was surprisingly gentle. "Leaning...Bear," he said, pointing to himself. "Emily," said Emily. She didn't take her eyes off him.

She took the bowl and used the bone handled knife to spear herself a piece. They ate in silence. Emily wouldn't face Leaning Bear. He noticed her shivering. "Cold," he said. He wrapped a buffalo robe around her. His touch was warm and kind.

She watched him sleeping that night _. This one seems...different._


	2. Nursery Rhymes

The next night, Leaning Bear called Emily to Prairie Fire's tipi. Apparently, Prairie Fire had tried to lay with Naomi, but she'd chanted nursery rhymes to try and ward him off. Afraid, he had called a meeting of the tribe leaders.

Now, as the group sat around the fire, Naomi continued. "Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, eating his pumpkin pie. Stuck out his thumb, pulled out a plum and said gee, what a good boy am I."

She shifted her eyes for a moment and started up again. "Old King Cole was a merry old soul. He called for his pipe, he called for his bowl, he called for his fiddlers three."

One of the elders said something that neither girl could understand. "He believes you channel evil spirits with these rhymes," Burned by the Sun translated.

Emily had to laugh at that, and Naomi scoffed. "More like keeping evil spirits away. Old Mother Hubbard went to her cupboard to fetch her dog a bone. But when she got there the cupboard was bare and so her poor dog had none."

"I don't think she's channeling evil spirits." It was the first time Emily had spoken all day, and everyone, including Leaning Bear, looked at her in surprise. "I think she's terrified of all of you. It was Cheyenne that killed her husband after all."

"Not...all...cruel," said Leaning Bear, defiantly meeting the Irish girl's gaze. She shot him a death glare. "I don't know what to think," Emily said, not taking her eyes off Leaning Bear.

Leaning Bear looked at Emily in interest.

"Spitting...Fire," he said slowly. "Good name...for Em-lee." She looked at him with a strange look in her eye when he said her name.


	3. The bond

A week went by and still, Emily defiantly clung to her identity. She would not learn Cheyenne or wear the beautiful doeskin dresses Leaning Bear brought her.

She became like a cat and certainly fought like one. She bit scratched and slapped anyone who tried to get near her. Naomi was the only person she knew and therefore the only one she trusted and didn't attack.

One night, she came back to the tipi after washing her hair in a nearby river. Emily was cold, and the fire was dying.

She felt a heavy weight on her shoulders and not just in the metaphorical sense. She stood up quick as a flash and brandished a deer bone knife she'd stolen at a very surprised Leaning Bear.

"Please, do not! It is me," the Indian pleaded. Still cautious, she set the knife down on the floor of the tipi where the silver blade glinted in the firelight.

Leaning Bear picked up a buffalo robe and wrapped it around Emily's shoulders. "Sometimes I forget that I'm not with my own people anymore," she confessed. Bear looked at her, concern in his eyes.

"You miss your family," he said, sitting so close to her that she could feel his warmth. "Family is everything."

" Why do you even care? You were part of that raid too. Why do ya look at me with this pity?" she asked. "Not true," Bear said. "I have always been against Prairie Fire's raids. They cause much pain."

"That explains why I saw Prairie Fire doing most of the pillaging."

Bear sensed her pain and wished to make it disappear. He just didn't know how. A single tear rolled down her cheek and before she knew it she was weeping in Bear's arms as if her heart would break.

He soothed her in Cheyenne, and though she could not understand the words, she somehow knew what he was trying to tell her.

 _You are safe with me. You are loved by me._


End file.
